


Honeycomb and Lavender (Tuath De - ficlet)

by OTP221B



Series: Tuath De [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Bees, Birthday, Ficlet, Fluff, Freeform, Friendship, Gen, Innocence, M/M, No Smut, Short, honeycomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:23:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OTP221B/pseuds/OTP221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very short sidhe Sherlock ficlet, light and fluffy, because I needed some sweetness. Belongs in the Tuath De series, nothing at all of import.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeycomb and Lavender (Tuath De - ficlet)

The day after John Watson turned thirteen, Sherlock brought him a gift of honey.

"It’s still on the fucking comb." John paused in tinkering with his dad’s old motorcycle. "It’s got bloody bees stuck to it."

The  _sidhe_  looked down his nose, undersea-rainbow eyes glittering.

"It’s fresh," he said, in a tone that clearly said  _idiot_. “The freshest I could find, and if I’d not harvested when I did, I’d have lost it to the Queen’s scavengers. I was nearly caught out. It was  _dangerous_.”

"Right." John wiped grease from the tip of his nose with the back of his sleeve. "You’re saying you risked your arse to bring me honey. On a comb. With bees in it."

"You like honey," Sherlock said, petulant. He lifted the comb, an unusually large sample, to nose-height and studied his prize, pleased. "It smells of lavender. These bees were particularly clever, John. They must have flown half a league west; there’s a human farmer who grows the Spanish variety. Lovely."

"Very," John replied, fond. Then, brow creased in thought: " _Lavendula dentata.”_

 _"Stoechas,"_ Sherlock corrected. “But, very good, John.” He held out the sticky offering. “Happy Birthday.”

Because John was used to Sherlock’s eccentricities, he took the comb without further complaint, gingerly balancing the dripping mass between all five fingers of one hand, trying to avoid the bees.

Sherlock smirked, pleased. He licked remnants of amber fluid from his own inhumanly long fingers, humming in delight, then nodded at John.

"Can we sit down, first?" John suggested. "Snack in the shade."

Sherlock shrugged. John abandoned the half-deconstructed motorbike for the shelter of Emily Watson’s elderberry tree. The boy squatted on the grass in the shade, set the comb on the ground by his knee.

When Sherlock hesitated, one eye on the Watson’s sagging cottage, John patted the ground at his side. 

"Come on, wanker." He said, "It’s fine. Come and share. How’d you know I like honey, anyway?"

"Obvious," Sherlock said. The  _sidhe_  tossed himself onto the ground in a flurry of velvet and lace, then stretched out long on the grass. He rolled onto his back, watched the elderberry tree sway overhead. 

"You mean, you’ve been spying again," John said, slurping honey form his own fingers. "You’re right, though. This is bloody brilliant."

"The lavender," Sherlock said, smiling quietly.

"Thank you," John said. "You’re brilliant, too."

"Obvious," Sherlock repeated, gruff, but a hint of pink pleasure suffused his cheeks and the hollow of his throat. "You’re welcome."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr. I get lonely.


End file.
